Tangled Hero
by OfficerKyle
Summary: Carter saves a girl's life, but now he has to face some problems... physically and mentally. FINISHED PRODUCT
1. CH1: Lost And Found

Contrary to my username, I am a female. But anyway, onto the story. Basically, this story revolves around Carter and his problem. Only two characters in this story belong to me, and they are Laura Jones and "Peg". All the rest are Crichton's. The time is around the beginning of the third season.  
  
IT was a brisk, sunlit afternoon in March, although the sunlight doesn't carry through noticeably from about thirty feet through the emergency room doors. This is only because the people working madly around the clock can focus only upon one form: on their patients. The patients are the sole purpose of the ER because everyone deserves another chance.  
  
"We've got a suspected suicide!" Carol Hathaway's voice echoed as far as possible through the filled hall. The radio had just rung in it's first of the day, thus beginning a day in the ER at Cook County General.  
  
"Suicide? Who called an ambulance on a suicide?" Chimed in Doug Ross, his mind half engulfed in a paper on his clipboard.  
  
"The lady who hit her," she replied. Doug's only reply was a confused look.  
  
"What? What's happening?" came Carter's voice. He closely followed his mentor, Peter, as they made their way to the ambulance entrance.  
  
"It's a suicide, weren't you listening, Carter?" Peter answered sternly. "What's the catch?" Hathaway responded immediately, "She did what any person could do... she ran out in traffic, I guess."  
  
As Peter and Carter hastily scrubbed in, Mark Greene cleared the second trauma room. As soon as the ordeal had started--or so it seemed-- the ambulance doors slammed open. A younger looking paramedic made his way to Peter to give him the information.  
  
"Left ulna looks to be fractured... left tibia, too. Some bruising on her right arm. We haven't confirmed anything internal yet, though. It looks like she was doing some kind of a volleyball tomahawk move or something when she was hit. It's pretty bad," he said.  
  
"Yea, thanks," replied Peter. "Carter!" Carter came running to his aide.  
  
"Yea?" he inquired.  
  
"Could you get a nurse to call upstairs and tell them that as soon as we stabilize this girl we're going to need a CT scan?"  
  
Carter paused, then answered, "Uh, sure." He quickly left the trauma room, his hands still dripping from the soap and water, glancing behind him to see that Mark had scrubbed in just in case... well, just in case this would happen.  
  
"Carter, scrub in. Carter, call the trauma team. Carter, call upstairs. And while you're at it, make a call to Bosnia and see if they would possibly have Chinese food!" He said to himself as he made his way to the front desk.  
  
"Could someone reserve a CT upstairs for Benton?" A nurse looked at him and gave him a nod that told him, "Sure thing, John."  
  
After fussing with a pair of latex gloves, which turned out to be quite a project, Carter made his way to the table. Of course, by the time he got to do something, there was no one to keep him from contaminating his own two hands. Right away, he was started on a task. Greene filled him in.  
  
"Alright, Carter. I'll tell you what you missed. There's some minor internal bleeding in the abdominal cavity, but we're still going to have to flush it out. Just take this," he said, giving Carter a giant syringe, "And..."  
  
"Don't worry, I know what to do," Carter snapped.  
  
Greene stepped back a bit. "Okay, okay," he said, sounding a little startled.  
  
Carter started on his task. He began with the needle. Unfortunately, there was a slight problem. He was too late with the tube, and things only got worse as a bloody sort of fountain made its way onto his jacket.  
  
"MINOR?" Carter yelled, jumping back into a supply table and toppling it along with himself.  
  
Benton shot in his say, "Well, don't just stand there! Get him some tubing!"  
  
As he tried to get untangled from the scalpels that had just ripped into his scrub jacket, Carter tried to make his way back to the table, but was shoved out of the way by Peter.  
  
"You know what," Peter turned to him, "I think we should handle this."  
  
"But I can help, I kno..." Carter started, but stopped himself.  
  
He dejectedly took off his gloves and started to leave the room when he heard the familiar EKG beeping of V-FIB, accompanied by a nurse shouting the problem. Knowing that he had a fat chance at redeeming himself, he continued to head out the room. Suddenly, he stopped himself, whirled around, and shoved his way to the table.  
  
"Carter, what are you doing?" Shouted Peter over the volume in the room.  
  
"Saving a life, what does it look like?" He asked back. "Someone get me some paddles, please!"  
  
He must have shocked the girl three times, the energy level increasing with each hit. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the girl went to a normal rhythm. There was a hush throughout the room as everyone turned to Carter (who had not noticed until know that he had taken over a high stake situation with nothing to back him up but a residency) and stared in a scared sort of amazement. Then, slowly and quiet enough that he could hear his own heartbeat, the majority of the room cleared out.  
  
"Nice work," Greene whispered as he passed Carter. "You saved her."  
  
A look of self-amazement swiped over his face.  
  
"Thanks, Mark," he said. He turned to the bed where the girl laid as two nurses started to move her out of the room, and looked vacantly into space rather than at the bed itself. "Yea, I guess so."  
  
ABOUT an hour later, Mark Greene was sitting in the locker room, trying to get some quiet. He glanced at the watch hanging in his locker. It read 1:21. It was at that time that he remembered the patient that was moved to room 2 after her CT scan. He decided to get himself moving, when Carter walked into the room, his left sleeve rolled to his elbow just above a bandage that indicated where one of the scalpels had pierced him, and went to his locker. He didn't open it; he just stood there staring at the door while a small, confused tear welled in each eye.  
  
"What's the matter, Carter?" He inquired.  
  
"Oh nothing," Carter replied, wiping under his eyes.  
  
"Oh," He said back, trying to get him to say what was on his mind. "Well, I have to get going."  
  
"Alright, alright. I'll tell you. Right after the girl was moved to her room, Benton said he wanted to talk to me. So, we went to the lunchroom where he had the nerve to tell me that I was 'out of line'," he said, mimicking Peter.  
  
"Uh," Mark started. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you were out of line."  
  
Carter looked offended and confused.  
  
"But that doesn't mean that the behavior you demonstrated wasn't spontaneous."  
  
He stopped the offended look, but continued a look of utter perplexity.  
  
"What I'm trying to say is that your. spontaneity. saved her life, and that even though you were out of line, it was the best decision I've seen you make so far in the ER. Of course, I'm sure Benton told you that."  
  
Carter looked offended again. "Actually, no. No he didn't."  
  
Mark thought for a few seconds. "I'll have to talk to him. Anyway, do you want to go talk to the girl? I mean, she might want to meet her hero."  
  
Carter's emotion changed once again, only this time to embarrassment. "Well, I don't want to sound like a prick and say, 'Hey, be thankful kid. I saved ya.' You know what I mean?"  
  
"Well, she deserves the truth. Just tell it to her straight. And she's not much of a kid," Mark pointed out.  
  
"What do you mean?" Carter asked.  
  
"She's about your age," He answered.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Well." He explained, ".When we were trying to get a coherent response, we asked for her birthday. She said a few unintelligible things, and then said that the year was seventy-four."  
  
"No kidding," Carter said. "I'm a seventy-three!"  
  
"So. go talk to her. Give her a little comfort, you know? Tell her everything's okay now."  
  
"Okay," Carter agreed, then set out at a slow pace out the door.  
  
"Oh, and Carter," Mark started.  
  
"Yea?" he replied.  
  
"I don't think heroes wear scalpels. Look down." Carter scanned around with his eyes until he saw the metal tool that had ripped through the bottom of his pant leg near his shoe. He reached down and pulled it out, throwing it into a sterilization bin near the door.  
  
"Lookin' good!" Mark called after him.  
  
In room two, a thin girl with dusty blonde hair and brown eyes was sitting up in a hospital bed. Her right arm was in an ACE® bandage, her left in a cast that stopped above her elbow. Her left leg was confined in a brace. She sat alone, looking bored and depressed, until Carter walked in.  
  
"Hey," he said quietly.  
  
"Hey to you," was her response. Her face lit up just a little.  
  
"Uh, how are you? Oh, sorry, that was a stupid question," he said sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"No, it's okay." she started, pushing her own hair out of her face. "I'm actually feeling pretty good, considering what happened."  
  
"So, what actually happened?" Carter asked, trying not to sound nosey.  
  
"Oh, uh."  
  
"And don't tell me nothing," he advised.  
  
"I was just about to cross the street, and some idiot ran into me."  
  
Carter didn't look like he was buying what he was hearing. "Ran into you?" he said sarcastically.  
  
"Okay, okay. he pushed me."  
  
Suddenly, a flush of rage ran down Carter's spine. The girl could tell by the way that he looked. "Who did that?"  
  
She moved her glance to the floor and remained silent, then shook her head.  
  
"I could help you, you know," he told her.  
  
"I'd rather think positively," she said to strike up a different conversation. "And what happened to you?" She asked, nodding to his arm with the rolled sleeve. Carter's face flushed pink in embarrassment. He found a stool, pulled it up to the bedside, and pulled a bed tray in front of him. He folded his arms on the tray and rested his head on top of them.  
  
"To be completely honest, I fell trying to help you," he said, leaving out the detail about the strange fountain that caused it.  
  
"I'm sorry about that. I was wondering if you could tell me something a little bit strange. did I, well, you know. flat-line or anything like that?" she asked.  
  
"No," he admitted, "but you went into V-FIB, which is."  
  
"I know," she interrupted. "Go on, how'd I get out of it?"  
  
"We used paddles."  
  
A smile went across her face. "We?" she said.  
  
"Uh, well. actually," he started, trying not to make a fool of himself.  
  
"You used the paddles?" she suggested.  
  
"Yea, I did," he answered humbly. It was then that his watch started to beep. "Oh, crap! I forgot about this meeting I have with the other residents. I, I have to go. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay, you're busy. I know how it is."  
  
"One last thing before I leave. what's your name? I mean, you look so familiar, but I just can't think of who you might be."  
  
"Oh right," she started. "I'm Laura Jones. and you are?"  
  
"Uh, John Carter. man, I know that name!" His watch beeped again. "Alright, okay!" He turned to the Laura. "Okay, I have to go."  
  
"See you, Doctor Carter," she said with a snicker.  
  
"Yea, I'll see you a little later," he answered as he left the room in a hurry.  
  
"Nice work, John-ay!" he told himself sarcastically as he sped down the hallway.  
  
A FEW hours later, Carter was woken up by a loud crash from down the hallway. He sat up slowly, trying to remember just where he had decided to take a nap after a nearly sleepless night for the past few nights. Of course, he had nobly chosen a supply closet. He glanced at his watch. It was about 4:30. He had gone to talk to Laura about a half-hour ago after he had helped in performing a spinal tap, but she was asleep. Before he decided to return, he figured it would be best if he got out of the supply closet to see what the crash was and ask if anyone needed help.  
  
He poked his head out the door, squinting at the fluorescent lights overhead. The only thing that had gone wrong was a stepladder falling out of place, although no one was on it.  
  
"Slow day," he reminded himself.  
  
As he stepped out of the room, he thought of what the name Laura Jones might mean to him. It hit him like a brick. He ran to the locker room, trying to skillfully avoid the usual obstacles in the hallway, which he did well now. It was like a game. Take off one point for the usual running into a box at while rounding the corner, but otherwise his run had gone very nicely. He unlocked his locker, whipped the door open, and pulled out a large gold envelope. He ran it over to the nearest table, kneeled down, and emptied it of its contents, which consisted of photographs, notes, drawings, and the occasional flashcard that he had trouble remembering in the past.  
  
"I still have these?" he asked the empty room as he threw them into a wastebasket.  
  
He dug through the pile of papers until he reached a small crumpled photograph with jagged edges. He looked on the back. In a preteen type writing, the phrase 'L.J. AND ME: '86' was scribbled in black pen. He flipped the photo over to see a girl with dark blonde hair, about twelve years of age, sitting on a curb. She was not alone, however, when he saw that her arm was around the shoulder of a boy that looked about 13 on the right side of the photograph. The boy, too, had his arm around her. It was Carter himself. A smile lit up his face as he suddenly realized who the girl was.  
  
Carter stood up, shoved the crumpled photograph in his pocket, and swiped the remaining papers back into the envelope. He threw the envelope in his locker, slammed it shut, and ran out the door, nearly knocking Carol over as she walked down the hall, reading a usual paper stuck to a clipboard.  
  
"In a hurry?" she shouted after him.  
  
"Yea, kind of!" he shouted back. He ran into room two and sat down on the stool. He wheeled himself to the bed and put the photo on the bed tray.  
  
"Remember this?" he asked.  
  
"No, not really," a male voice replied. Carter looked at the face of a slightly terrified middle-aged man.  
  
"Wait, you're not Laura," he told the man.  
  
"I know," he said, chuckling a bit. Carter's face flushed this time to a rose color.  
  
"I am so sorry," he pleaded, taking the photo and running to the front desk.  
  
"Could someone tell me where the Jones girl is?" he nearly shouted to the nurses.  
  
"She was moved to curtain two," Jerry answered. He thanked Jerry and ran to the curtained area, and went into curtain 2.  
  
"You're Laura, right?" he asked.  
  
"I think so," she answered with a smile.  
  
"Oh, good. Two must be your lucky number," he said to her.  
  
"In a freaky sort of way. Thanks for coming back."  
  
"I would have come back sooner or later," he began. "Do you happen to recognize this picture?" he asked, handing her the photograph. She looked at it for about a minute as Carter pulled a visiting chair to the bed and sat down, panting but smiling a toothy, satisfied smile. She flipped the photo to the back and whispered,  
  
"Nineteen eighty-six."  
  
He tilted his head eagerly to the right like a small puppy would, and leaned closer to her.  
  
"Yes, I know this picture. I have one just like it! Could you get my personals and check my coat pocket? I think it's in there."  
  
He quickly got out the coat and searched every pocket. The last one, the small one inside the coat, contained something papery and folded. He pulled it out, trying not to be nosey, and gave it to Laura to unfold. It turned out to be the exact same picture, a double, but taken from a slightly different angle. Carter pointed this out.  
  
"It must have been taken by two different people," he suggested, which was a no-brainer, he realized after he said it.  
  
"I recognize that face. I'm guessing the 'me' on the back is you, right?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," he answered hastily.  
  
"It must have been right before junior high, in the." There was a pause. Then, in perfect unison:  
  
"East Chicago School District."  
  
There was a strange silence as they looked at each other awkwardly and smiled slowly.  
  
"I can't believe we didn't figure that out earlier," he said, almost stupidly.  
  
"Yea, I know," she said in the same way.  
  
"I mean, we've been friends since we were. what, four?"  
  
"That sounds right."  
  
"Well then," he started, "long time no see."  
  
After a long talk with Laura, Carter decided that it was time to talk to Peter again. "Maybe," he thought to himself, "just maybe, I'll get an apology." As he headed to the front desk to ask where Peter had gotten to, he found him conveniently located at his very destination.  
  
"Oh, hey Carter," Peter said solemnly, his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Hey. I was just looking for you," he answered.  
  
"Yea, I was looking for you." After that, there was an awkward pause.  
  
"So," they said in unison. Carter went first.  
  
"You know, I really thought I was doing good back there. But I guess I was just 'out of line'," he said, once again mimicking Peter. Carter was expecting a response, but Peter remained silent. After waiting a few seconds, Carter laughed in frustration. "Alright. I don't know what you want. Look, I'll make you a deal. How about." he said as he made a sarcastic thinking gesture. ".How about this; I'll never do it again. Would that make you happy? Because anything to make my mentor happy is good by me." Peter still remained silent, at a loss for words. "Fine," Carter said. "Fine." It was then that he gave up and slowly turned around. He drew in a long breath and let it go, and then started to walk away. About twenty feet down the hallway, Peter finally answered.  
  
"Carter, wait," he called as he ran to him.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"You and I both know that it's not your place to jump in front of doctors like that, but." he said, followed by a sigh. ".I'm proud of you. And, uh. I'm sorry about the way I acted. In which case I guess I should be thanking you. So, thanks."  
  
Carter smiled a small smile and laughed a little. "Well," he started, "to me it seemed like. you know, it looked like you were just standing there. I mean, there was something about her that made me do that."  
  
"I understand," said Peter.  
  
"And you know something."  
  
Peter shrugged in response.  
  
"She turned out to be one of my best friends. I've known her forever. but I haven't seen her since, uh, forever."  
  
"Well, I have to go," Peter said.  
  
"Yea, I should go get some sleep."  
  
"You do that. And thanks again."  
  
Carter's smile widened. "No problem."  
  
Carter turned around to head back to his supply closet (but he was beginning to think that the morgue would be a quieter place) when he saw Mark standing there, smiling.  
  
"Thanks for talking to him, Mark," said Carter.  
  
"You're very welcome. but I never said a word to him," Mark said in slight confusion.  
  
"Oh... well, I'm going to take a nap. Morgue or supply closet?"  
  
"The morgue's quiet, but if you go to the supply closet all the way at the end of the other hallway, there's a cot in there with a few pillows and a sheet. But hey, it's your choice."  
  
"Thanks, I think I'll take that closet idea. Whenever people come to wake me up in the morgue, it's so quiet they nearly scare the life out of me," Carter said, turning around and walking to the end of the other hallway.  
  
"It should be," Mark said after him.  
  
When he got there, he found a small cot. Sure enough, it had two pillows and a hospital bed sheet. He turned out the light, guided himself to the cot with his watch light, and situated himself in his makeshift sleeping place.  
  
"Finally," Carter said.  
  
It had been a while since he had gotten a good night's sleep. He would dream about the days when he and Grant were college buddies, just minding their own business and doing the usual things that they would do, or maybe they would be studying, when he would wake with a jolt to find his pillow damp with tears. But now he had something else to think about, and that was helping Laura. 


	2. CH2: Three Months Later

CARTER walked into the ER and flopped down on a chair in back of the desk after a stop at the mail shelf. He had received singular piece of paper with a post-it attached, telling him to sign the paperwork. The paper asked for the date in the bottom left-hand corner. He put it down on the desk and scribbled '6/21' on the line. He looked over, and there was a space for his name. He resumed scribbling and wrote 'J. Carter' in a half-cursive writing.  
  
"Hey, Carter!" Jerry's voice called from the front door. He walked to the desk and set down a tray with crackers and cheese slices.  
  
"Hey, Jerry, and a happy first day of summer to you. May I?" he said as he gestured toward the cracker tray.  
  
"Sure, they're free-for-all's, why not? And happy first day of summer to you, too."  
  
"Great," said Carter as he reached for the little round crackers.  
  
"Morning, guys!" Carol called as she came to the desk. "Carter, there's a call on the private line for you. You might want to answer this one."  
  
"Oh, thanks," he said as he picked up the phone and switched it to the private line.  
  
"Hello? John Carter."  
  
"Hey, Carter," said a familiar girl's voice from the other end.  
  
"Laura?" Carter almost shouted as he sat up straight and a smile wiped over his face.  
  
"Nice," Jerry whispered from behind him. Carter hushed him, and listened to the phone.  
  
"Yes, it's me. I was just wondering how you were," Laura replied.  
  
"Uh, I'm just fine! Man, I haven't heard from you since April! How are you?"  
  
"Everything's fine, just a few scars is all. I wanted to know something."  
  
"Yes?" Carter asked.  
  
"Are you free tonight?"  
  
Carter's smile now showed his teeth. He looked around, almost as if for a swift answer.  
  
"Uh, tonight?" He turned to the schedule whiteboard. "After about six, yea."  
  
"Oh good," she told him. "Because I wanted to talk to you, you know, over dinner or something."  
  
"Dinner?" he asked, looking at Jerry. He smiled back. "Sure. Where at?"  
  
"I don't know, I was figuring you could choose. Maybe there's one on second street," she laughed, thinking about how she had been in all rooms numbered with two just three months ago.  
  
Carter laughed back. "No, but there's one on third street. Maybe I can pick you up around seven and take you there?"  
  
"I'll meet you there," she suggested.  
  
"But." Carter started.  
  
"You're afraid I won't show, aren't you?"  
  
"Kind of, but." he started again.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be there. Besides, you don't even know where I live," Laura reminded him.  
  
"Oh, right. Well, I guess I'll see you tonight around seven."  
  
"Seven it is. I'll see you there."  
  
"Yea. Bye Laura," he said happily.  
  
"Bye John," she said back.  
  
Carter hung up the phone with a smile. He propped his feet up on the desk and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and reaching blindly at the cracker tray. He rewarded himself with a cracker, which he almost choked on when Doug walked into his legs, his mind once again engulfed in a paper, knocking him off the chair.  
  
"Oh man, I'm really sorry!" Doug apologized. He watched with embarrassment as Carter made his way, coughing, to the water cooler. He helped himself to a Dixie cup of cold water. Once he had stopped coughing, he made his way back to the desk, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat.  
  
"That's okay," he managed to say.  
  
"Congrats," Doug said to him.  
  
"On what?" Carter asked as he tried to compose himself.  
  
"Your date."  
  
"How do you know about. Hey! Were you eavesdropping on my call?" he said, looking slightly amused.  
  
"Yea, sorry. But when Carol told me that Laura had called you, we couldn't resist."  
  
"Oh alright." Carter took a second to pause. "Wait a minute, we? Who's we?"  
  
"Don't worry! It was just Carol and I. And Jeanie. And Mark."  
  
"And who else did you let listen in on my call?" Carter asked, looking slightly offended now.  
  
"No one. that is, unless."  
  
"Unless what?"  
  
".Unless anyone else heard the speakerphone. We turned it down really far!"  
  
Carter dropped a hand on the desk. "Doug!" he shouted, now less amused.  
  
"Sorry, Carter, it was just really interesting."  
  
Carter stood there for a minute, not knowing what to say.  
  
Thinking of nothing better, he asked, "So, that restaurant IS on Third Street,?"  
  
"Lucky for you, yes it is," Doug said, trying not to laugh, but failing in doing so. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. I've done that before, actually."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yea, the old 'restaurant on third street' trick. Only I checked to make sure there was one there first."  
  
"Well thanks for checking," Carter said, starting to laugh to himself a bit. It was then that Mark, Jeanie, and Carol walked by, smiling at Carter. Doug joined them in smiling, and walked toward pediatrics.  
  
"See ya," Doug said as he walked down the hall.  
  
"See ya," replied Carter, rolling his eyes at the trio that was walking by.  
  
It was about noon when Carter looked at his watch after finishing his lunch, which consisted of nothing put a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, a blueberry yogurt, and another Dixie cup of water from the cooler. Not to mention that he had swiped about ten crackers from the tray by now. He threw the brown paper bag that had been his lunch bag into the trash bin and went to check his schedule. He went about this much like a first-grader would go about his first day at school. The board was simple;  
  
Appy - Carter - 1:30, Splinter - Carter - 3:00, Routine vaccinations - Carter - 4:00, And he was on call in the ER for the entire day.  
  
"Hey Carol," Carter began to ask, "Why does my entire schedule revolve around things either going in or coming out of people?"  
  
"Don't they normally?" She asked.  
  
"You have a point." He let out a small sigh. "Oh well, no scheduled action for poor little Carter today, I guess." It was just then that the ER doors slammed open.  
  
"Carter!" It was Peter.  
  
"Spoke too soon," he told himself as he ran for a scrub jacket and gloves.  
  
A paramedic relayed the information. "Male, about 38 years old. we found him at a bank heist, one of three, two gunshot wounds to the lower abdomen."  
  
"Thanks," Mark called. "We're on it, keep the others coming."  
  
Carter knew that as a resident, he would be handling the first man until he was stable, so he routinely went to trauma one and started doing his duties.  
  
Doug's voice could be heard in the background, "On my count. One, two, three!"  
  
"Feeling good about your skills today, Carter?" Mark asked.  
  
"Guess so," he answered.  
  
"Then I'm going to need you to come over here and wait until you see the obstruction."  
  
"The bullets," Carter chimed in.  
  
". Yes, those. And tell me as soon as you see them because there's no exit wound, and I don't want there to be one. We're going to take those two suckers out the way they came in. Got it?"  
  
"Got it." Carter immediately went down to bed-eye level, and began keeping his eyes on the man. Mark had already tried to work at the 'obstruction', but Carter's eyes were swift enough to help him get there.  
  
"STOP!" he shouted at Mark, making a few nurses turn around. "I see it! I see it! A little to the left, the other must be farther in." He was talking at a mile a minute.  
  
Mark stopped what he was doing and reached for a clamp that could dislodge what turned out to be the second bullet that was fired. Carter knew the first bulled fired had to be directly in front of that one.  
  
"What was this guy using?" he asked. "A machine gun?"  
  
Mark had to laugh a little bit. He put the bullet on the tray. It was only a matter of minutes before Carter spotted the other bullet. Mark looked for it with the clamp, but felt nothing. He saw nothing. Carter went into the best of detail, but Mark just couldn't get to it. At one point, he had it, but it slipped.  
  
"Here, Carter," he said as he handed him the clamp. "I can't get it." He wiped a few beads of sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "It's a little humiliating."  
  
"That's alright," Carter said to encourage him. Mark forced the clamp into his hand and nodded.  
  
"You can see it, just get it."  
  
Carter nodded and used the clamp. After pulling gently for about thirty seconds, it came loose enough that he could pull it out.  
  
"I GOT IT!" He said with an expression of excitement.  
  
"Good job, Carter," Mark said, which was followed by a 'good work' from Peter and Doug. Carter was then dismissed from the room. He threw off his jacket and gloves into a biohazard bin and checked his watch. 12:30.  
  
"Whoopee, and appendectomy in an hour," he reminded himself. 


	3. CH3: Carter's Night Out

WHEN Carter had finally gotten off work, it was about 6:00. That gave him an hour to get home and make himself look presentable, which isn't supposed to be much of a matter that would require a lot of consideration, for he was going to have dinner with someone he had known for years. But why now, of all times, did he feel as though he should dress in fashionable attire? He felt a bit ridiculous, but it was of little knowledge to him that Laura felt the exact same way. He went outside. It was about an hour before sunset. "Good," he thought to himself. "It'll be like old times, watching the sun go down." He stepped into his Jeep and turned the key as fast as he could. Then he floored it to his house. or as much as you can possibly floor it going out of a hospital garage in Chicago, anyway.  
  
When he finally arrived at his house (after nearly running a red light and two stop signs) just a while later, he headed straight to his closet and rummaged his way to the back (He hadn't been there in a while, but how different could it be?). He pulled off their hangers what turned out to be about ten different combinations of suits. First, he put on black permanently pressed pants with a graphite shirt and took a glance at the mirror.  
  
"Well, this ain't exactly a funeral, so no."  
  
Next came a white shirt.  
  
"Great, a chess board."  
  
He tried the blue pants, the gray pants, the tan shirt, the black shirt (the tan shirt and the black shirt together just for kicks), and with every combination came a new self-criticism, each one progressing more in detail than the last. However, he had to try one combination that he knew wouldn't work. A plaid shirt with blue pants. He looked in the mirror, grabbed a red bow tie and held it to his neck, and burst out laughing. When he turned around, his foot became entangled with his shoe and a rejected pair of pants. This sent him face-flat on his bed, laughing hysterically when he lifted his head to realize he was in a pair of khaki cargoes. He pulled the pants off his face and looked at them with interest. He then made a mad dash for the white shirt again. He found out that khaki tan and white do go together. Unfortunately, there was no tie to match this.  
  
"Oh well, it's Casual Friday in the Carter household now."  
  
He buttoned the shirt and left the sleeves unbuttoned.  
  
"Good enough," he said, reaching for a can of mousse. He did his hair like normal after playing with a spiked look (once again for kicks), put his hands in his pockets, took one last look in the mirror and at the clock, and left for the restaurant on third.  
  
When he got there, he sat on a bench outside to wait for Laura. It was only a matter of fashionably late minutes until she walked up to him. She too had resorted to casual attire. She wore a nice pair of dark blue flared jeans, sneakers, and a black V-necked sleeveless shirt.  
  
"Let me guess," she started. "You went to the back of your closet, only to pick something from the front. Am I right?"  
  
"That's about right. I'm guessing you did the same."  
  
"Yea," she said, smiling as she pulled her hair behind one ear.  
  
"Well you look nice. Of course, the last time I saw you, you were in hospital pajamas."  
  
They shared a laugh as they went inside and seated themselves to a table further in the restaurant near the dance floor. A soft rock band was playing on the stage.  
  
When their waitress came, they skipped appetizers and went straight to dinner, much like they had in high school. They decided that they would try to make the night like old times, so they each ordered California cheeseburgers with milkshakes.  
  
"Alright," she said after taking their order and putting the list in her waist apron. Before she left, she paused and said, "You two make a really good couple by the looks of it."  
  
Carter and Laura looked at each other, then at the waitress.  
  
"Thanks," Carter said.  
  
He wasn't sure of what he had just implicated. Whether he had wanted to be a couple for the night or not was beyond both of them. All he knew was that it made him feel a little awkward now, not knowing what Laura thought of his answer to the compliment as well as not knowing what to think of for himself.  
  
They talked about the days in high school and junior high while they ate their conventional dinner with a quickened pace. It was then that Carter saw the sun beginning to set in the mirror to his right that reflected the window behind him.  
  
"Come on, I want to go do something," he said to Laura, grabbing his milkshake and laying his money on the check, obviously to keep the change. He even left a hefty tip. Laura only smiled and followed him. They went out to Carter's Jeep and he told her to get in as he held the door open.  
  
"What about my car?" she asked.  
  
"Don't worry, we're coming back, I just want to take you somewhere. I think you'll like it. But don't try to make me tell you. it's a surprise."  
  
"Okay," she answered awkwardly, buckling her seatbelt.  
  
Carter shut her door and went to the driver's side. He started the car and drove a few minutes down the road to an open park.  
  
"We're going to have to make our exit quick because all the parks close at sunset, so let's go," he said to her as he ran to the passenger side and helped her down out of the Jeep. He grabbed her hand and they ran through a woodsy trail in the park. He led her up a steep, mulch-covered hill, through a rocky path, and onto a boulder that had to be about ten feet wide at the very least.  
  
"What are we doing, John?" She asked almost sternly with a bit of worry in her voice.  
  
Carter took her by the shoulders and turned her around.  
  
"I'd like to know what we're do. wow!" she said as she saw what was in front of her. Carter sat her down and then seated himself next to her, their feet hanging over the edge of the massive rock. What Carter had shown her turned out to be the sunset. But not just an ordinary scene: There were trees in full bloom on the horizon, making a dark silhouette of themselves in the setting sun. Shades of pink, purple, orange, and red flew in the sky over the sun as it sank to its bed west of the earth. A cool, crisp air swept over them, making them move closer together. Laura leaned her head on his shoulder. As the sun dropped lower, the impact of having no lights in the park finally took its place as the stars shined themselves ritually. They stargazed for what seemed an endless time, finally striking a conversation.  
  
"So, I guess it really is like old times now," Laura said, taking her head off his shoulder.  
  
"Yea. Uh, Wha. What was it that you wanted to uh, tell me about?" Carter asked.  
  
"Oh, that. I, well, I figured I might as well tell you the truth. You know, about what actually happened back in March."  
  
"Only if you want to tell me," he told her, hoping deep down that she would continue.  
  
"I do. I really feel I should. Well, do you remember Paul?"  
  
"Paul. Paul.," he put one hand over his eyes as he tried to reminisce.  
  
"Paul Glasner," she put in.  
  
"Paul Glasner? You mean Peg Paul? That Paul?" They had always called him Peg because his full name was Paul Edward Glasner, the initials spelling out the word Peg.  
  
"Yea, Peg."  
  
"I remember him. he was always a dork, right? With big glasses, and people used to pick on him all the time because of it."  
  
"And you remember what happened, right? You heard some kids making fun of him, and you snapped on them."  
  
"Yea, I remember that," he said, laughing. "I beat on them pretty bad. They were some wise ass freshman making fun of a sophomore. And then he thanked us and we kinda became buddies, right?"  
  
"Right. Well you won't believe this, but I ran into him. back in March. Now, you have to listen to me on this, and promise you won't say anything until I'm done."  
  
Carter figured it would take some self-control, but he nodded in agreement.  
  
"Okay, here it goes. We were walking along that road, and we were talking about some of the nasty pranks we used to play on each other, when I pushed him into this lamppost because of something he said. Then he decided he was going to push me, and I knew I had it coming, but he accidentally. well, you know, you must have heard the stories in the ER. Anyway, I know it was an accident because I can still remember him screaming my name as I fell. He tried to run in after me, but a truck blocked him, and, and. I know he didn't mean to hurt me!" she then started to tear nervously, not knowing what to expect of Carter.  
  
"It's okay," he said, putting his right arm around her. "I know he would never mean to hurt you. Or any of us, for that matter, he's Peg, and Peg wouldn't hurt a fly."  
  
"But I feel so bad because I've been putting off calling him. He probably doesn't even know I'm alive right now. But I've been so busy, trying to switch jobs so I can stay here in Chicago."  
  
"I could tell him," Carter suggested.  
  
"But you don't want to get into my mess, do you?"  
  
"It's okay. Besides, I'd like to talk to Paul again. Don't worry, I'll handle it. Maybe we can even get together after I'm off work tomorrow."  
  
Laura looked at him. "Tomorrow? But it's such short notice, I mean."  
  
Carter cut her off. "Not to him, it's not. He has a right to know. I'm going to give him a call tonight. I want to talk to him. I miss him, too. All I need is his number."  
  
"Alright, fine," she agreed, pulling out a piece of paper from her pocket with a number scribbled on it. She had put it here just in case Carter had wanted to call him. She could predict almost every move he made. "But only if you promise not to get mad at him, please John don't do anything to him!"  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," he told her with an honorable smile. "Now let's go get your car. You look a little tired."  
  
Later that night, Carter sat down on his bed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a white tee shirt and picked up the phone that sat on his nightstand. He slowly but surely dialed the numbers as he read them off the paper that Laura had given him. He knew she had expected him to ask for their friend's number. It was only about 10:00. Surely he would be lying in his own bed right now, watching television or something relative to that. There was a dial tone, then suddenly a voice.  
  
"Hello?" said a man's voice from the other end.  
  
"Hey, is this Paul?"  
  
"Yes, who's this?" the voice asked.  
  
"It's Carter. Long time no see!"  
  
"Carter, John Carter from high school?" He seemed very excited.  
  
"Yea, that's me. I was looking for someone in the phonebook when I came across your name, and I said to myself 'Wow, wouldn't it be nice to talk to Peg again?' So I tried the number, and it's obviously yours," he lied.  
  
"Wow, I haven't seen you in so long." He left out the detail of him meeting Laura. "Well, I'm kind of tired right now, I was just watching TV hoping to fall asleep, but maybe we can get together sometime."  
  
"Yea, I was thinking the same thing. Oh, and sorry I kind of woke you. Are you free tomorrow morning around ten-ish?"  
  
"That's okay, I wasn't asleep yet. tomorrow? Uh, well, I guess so. What do you want to do?"  
  
"I was thinking," Carter started, then he actually had to stop and think for a few seconds. "I was thinking maybe, uh. I know. I'll pick up some Chinese food and we can meet at."  
  
"Let me guess," Paul said. "The restaurant on third?" he laughed.  
  
Carter laughed, too, suddenly realizing how serious men were about this 'restaurant on third' thing. "Yea, I guess so. Maybe we can take a walk down to the picnic area at the park. I'd like to catch up on things, you know. It's been a while since the summer after twelfth grade."  
  
"Uh, sure," Paul said. "Ten-ish." He let out a long yawn.  
  
"Alright, I'll let you go." Carter said.  
  
"Okay. It was really great to hear from you!" Paul said, suddenly sounding very excited. Well, that was Peg for you.  
  
"Yea, it was nice talking hearing you again. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye," Paul said, holding back another yawn.  
  
"Bye," replied Carter as he hung up the phone.  
  
"Well," he said to himself, "I'll finally set this mistake straight."  
  
He then turned out the light and pulled his covers over him, rolling over into his pillow like the little kid that he was deep down, and went to sleep. 


	4. CH4: Painful Investigation

Just hours later, Carter jumped at the buzzing of his alarm clock. He reached for the snooze button, but refrained from slamming his hand down upon the clock that stared him down, telling him that it was nine o'clock. He had already known that he wasn't to be at work early. No, not today. Not to mention, he had forgotten something. He suddenly jumped when he realized he was going to see Paul. He tried to jump up out of bed, but fell back down when his vision became clouded. This was a usual thing that he knew he couldn't do. After lying down for hours on end, it is a known fact that one cannot just leap into the air. He sat with his head against the headboard until the spots went away. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then was ready to go.  
  
He woke himself with a shower and then got into his green scrub shirt and suspenders. He wanted to show Paul that he could indeed finish med. school. And not to mention the element of surprise it would bring to Paul's face.  
  
Skipping breakfast, he jumped into his Jeep (after he ran back into the house to get his keys) and headed to the nearest Chinese restaurant. "Maybe I should call Bosnia. nah," he thought to himself, referring to a joke he had made when he was having a bad day back in March. He was thinking of how much fun it would be to talk to Paul, and then some. He thought about a lot of things until he was jolted from his seat and pulled back at the same time by his seatbelt.  
  
"Whoa!" Carter yelled as he hit the brake.  
  
He looked ahead to see that he had just rear-ended a car. And of course it wasn't an ordinary car. It couldn't have been a Suzuki or a Chevette, oh no. No no no, not for Carter. It had to be a '68 Corvette with a huge rear crumple zone and a very large driver. With very large muscles.  
  
"Oh damn," Carter managed to whisper as the man stepped out and looked at his car.  
  
"This your doing?" the man asked, gesturing to his precious' rear. His sleeves had been cut off his tee shirt. The man turned out not be as large as Carter had hallucinated. He couldn't have weighed more than 175. Unfortunately, the muscles were still huge.  
  
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking. Look, I'm on my way to a very important meeting with an old friend, so maybe I can write a check? Heh, heh," A nervous laugher took over.  
  
"You think this is funny?" He had an Italian accent. A Vinny for sure. A Mafia Vinny for certainty, Carter thought. "Step out of the vehicle, miss."  
  
"Hey, no need for insults," Carter put in as he locked his door. Judging by the look the man gave him when he heard the click, that was a bad idea. He unlocked it, unbuckled, and stepped out.  
  
"Oh, so you think you're safe with a belt? You look like a doctor. You're gonna need your skills, buddy."  
  
"Oh come on," Carter said, knowing the restaurant was only about three buildings away from his sight.  
  
"Come on? Okay, have it your way," The man laughed as he grabbed Carter by the v-shaped neck of his shirt, pushing him against the Jeep's door.  
  
Carter tried to push the man off, but he was reluctant to letting go. So, he put his arms over top of the other man's and shoved down. It was enough to weaken the grip. Carter shoved the man back just so he wasn't pinned against his Jeep. The man looked at him and shook his head. Carter had a bad habit of laughing nervously, which was bad now. As he tried to hold back a nervous laugh, the man's face reddened. He tried to hold back, but couldn't. The next thing Carter knew, he was on the ground from a punch across the face. He had spun so that he was face down in the street. He pushed himself off the ground and spat out blood. He wiped his mouth and turned around with his arm raised in a fist. He socked the man back, but hit him in the eye rather than the mouth. "Vinny" showed no mercy, and grabbed Carter by the shoulders, pulling him closer and putting a knee out. He thrust his knee into Carter, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to bend down, when he kneed him in the face, sending him into the Corvette. No, it couldn't have been a Chevette. When the Mafia-man came at a quickened pace with an arm raised, Carter spun rolled out of the way, making the man punch the back of his totaled rear. The man raised his arms and ran his hands through his hair in disbelief as he looked at the fresh new dent. This gave Carter his chance, and he took it. He put his own arms around the man's and behind his head, making him vulnerable and unable to fight back.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, I never did. I said I was sorry and offered to pay, but that wasn't good enough for you. I'll see you for reimbursement after your insurance company sends me any bill you can conjure up. I work at Cook County General, send it there. But until then, I have a destination." He pulled a twenty out of his pocket with a shaking hand.  
  
"Here," he said, putting the twenty in the man's front pocket. "Buy yourself lunch."  
  
It was then that he made a run for it by jumping into his Jeep, starting it again, and shoving the stick shift into reverse. Just three feet later, he rammed it into first and sped toward the Third Street restaurant, completely screwing the Chinese.  
  
He pulled over at the restaurant. Paul wasn't there. He decided to clean himself up, so he went inside and went to a waitress, the one that had, in fact, served him just last night. She gasped at the sight of him.  
  
"I know, I know. Say, could you do me a favor? If a man comes in here, brown hair, glasses, green eyes, probably my height, and he's looking for a John Carter, tell him he can find me in the bathroom?"  
  
"Sure, anything. What happened?" She asked.  
  
"Don't want to talk about it, I'm kind of in a hurry."  
  
He rushed to the men's room and looked around, making sure no one was in there. He leaned on the sink, then collapsed himself in a nearby chair, breathing painfully and heavily. He was shaking. Even though the fight hadn't lasted long, the man had had a lot of force to put out. Carter then got enough breath to get up and look in the mirror. Still panting but no longer shaking, he gasped at the sight of himself. He had to blink twice.  
  
What he saw was his mouth filling with blood from his gums. His teeth were tinted red. His left cheek was a shade of blue where he had been kneed in the face (which was the second attack from the man's knee). He felt the back of his head, and his hand came back moist with blood from where he had hit the crushed metal of the rear end of the Corvette. He cringed at his reflection, and frowned at the blood on his shirt. Just then, the door swung open. There stood a man with brown hair, green eyes, and now thin- rimmed glasses.  
  
"Hey, Carter! Holy God, what happened?" Yes, it was Paul.  
  
"Hey Paul, how's it going for you lately?" Carter asked sounding almost excited to see him. "Everything's dandy here," he added hastily right before he spat out more blood and collapsed himself back into the chair, trying to get more breath from the force of the man's right knee. He breathed heavily and resumed shaking, then rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.  
  
"Carter, what happened?" He asked again with great concern.  
  
"I hit some guy in his Corvette, and, he, you know. He got a little mad, alright?"  
  
Paul frowned, then smiled a little. "So, did you hit him?"  
  
Carter looked up at him, mouth open. "Yea," he said in an 'are-you-kidding' tone.  
  
"Well, anyway, I see you finished med. school," Paul put in. "You do know that I never REALLY doubted you, right?"  
  
"I know you never doubted any of us. You're too soft," Carter said, then coughed.  
  
"Hey!" Paul said, then added, "You okay?"  
  
"Yea, I just never thought getting kneed in the chest could cause so much damage." He drew in a breath and sat back.  
  
"Whoa, hold on a sec.," Paul said, looking at his shirt. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the blood that was there.  
  
"Just some crap from my face. whoa," he said, looking down at his shirt. "There wasn't that much there before!" He started to sound worried.  
  
"Wait," Paul said as he kneeled down to get a closer look. "There's a hole there. Did that guy stab you with something?"  
  
"No, it was just a fist fight. The only other hit I took was when he punched me and I landed on the ground, face fir." Carter cut himself off. "Oh man, oh man," he started, sounding more worried.  
  
"Lift your shirt, Carter. I think you might have landed on something."  
  
Carter did as his friend asked, and sure enough there was a small piece of metal. At least, it looked small, but he couldn't see the whole thing. Paul hadn't realized until only a few seconds later that his friend had seen the metal. Carter had started to look away and talk to himself when Paul but in.  
  
"Calm down," he said. "Where could it have come from?"  
  
"I guess some metal flew and I landed on a piece. Oh man, Paul. I need help," he started to shake more.  
  
"Where do you work?"  
  
"Cook County, you know where it is," he answered.  
  
Paul picked up Carter, but he pulled away.  
  
"Hold on, I don't want to make a scene," Carter said as he bent down and splashed his face with water and rinsed his mouth. He folded his arms so no one would see the hole, then went with Paul.  
  
"I'm going to drive you," Paul told him. "I'll come back for your car, but I'm going to get you to that hospital."  
  
"Okay, but take me in the side ER door. Like I said, I don't want to make a scene." Carter wiped his face one last time, then let Paul lead him outside. Carter gave a nod to the waitress as they left, then Paul helped him into his Chevy Tahoe. It was definitely a big step compared to his own, Carter thought. Paul grabbed Carter's keys from his topless Jeep, then started the Tahoe.  
  
They talked awhile as they drove to the hospital, Carter getting a little less stressed with every subject. When they made it there, Paul had to help him out of his massive black SUV. As promised, he led Carter to the side door. When they walked in, Carter did one thing. He yelled for help.  
  
"Mark!" he called down the hallway. "Doug? Peter? Someone!"  
  
Meanwhile, Mark was at the front desk. He and Jerry looked at each other.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Mark asked Jerry.  
  
"Yea, I did," he said as he headed down the hall. Mark followed.  
  
Carter looked down the hall and saw Jerry and Mark, although they didn't see him yet.  
  
"Mark! Jerry!" he yelled to them.  
  
The two looked at each other again.  
  
"Oh my God, that's Carter," Mark said. They broke into a run to find Carter with a man they had never met before, which reminded Mark much of himself.  
  
"What happened to you?" Mark said as he helped Carter to a curtained room.  
  
"Him and some guy got into a fight, and he landed on a piece of metal. It's in him, man! I didn't know what else to do than bring him to work. I don't know all the details, all I know is that it's pretty weird," Paul explained.  
  
"Who are you?" Jerry asked, sounding a little concerned.  
  
"Don't worry," Carter said in a breathy tone. "He's an old friend."  
  
When they got to the curtain, Mark instructed Jerry to help Carter into a bed as he ran out and got Peter and Doug. When they came back, they found Carter breathing very hard while the other two looked very worried. They gave Carter an oxygen mask, cut his scrub shirt off, and got to work trying to remove the metal.  
  
The entire time, everything seemed like a daze to Carter. He heard the medical terms, but didn't comprehend a word. It wasn't from any impending unconsciousness, or from shock, maybe a contribution from lack of oxygen, but mostly because he had so much he had to say. He needed to get things done, but he didn't realize how serious the situation was. All he realized was that there was a job not getting done, and he had to finish it.  
  
It was only a matter of minutes until the metal was pulled from Carter. He sat up in a rush as he inhaled the deepest shock of a breath he could manage. It scared him, for he had not been able to do that for about twenty minutes or so. He exhaled with a few hacking coughs.  
  
"Everything's okay," Doug told him. "Just sit still."  
  
Carter couldn't feel a thing thanks to a certain injected painkiller, but he knew that they were putting in stitches. After the fuss was over, he had one question.  
  
"Uh, there's some blood coming off my head, is that bad?"  
  
Peter rolled his eyes as he checked the back of Carter's head.  
  
"Nothing serious, just a scrape. Not stitch-worthy if that's what you meant," He informed him.  
  
"You are damn lucky," Doug said to him as he leaned against the wall behind the bed.  
  
"Yea, it's a miracle that you're not in the OR," Peter added.  
  
"Why?" Carter asked.  
  
Mark explained. "Well, the metal that went in must have bent some how because when we pulled it out, the point was curled away from you. It was only pushing on your lungs, and there wasn't even a small hole there or a spec of internal bleeding. I don't know how it got bent after it went into you, but man were you lucky."  
  
"How do you know it wasn't bent before it went in?" Carter asked.  
  
"Because," Mark said, holding up a now clean piece of metal that was painted red like the Corvette, which must have shattered, Carter later thought, "There is no way that could have pierced anything, let alone skin." He was right, the point was curled under in a way that it never could have made such a deep gash.  
  
Carter stared in amazement. It really was a freaky sort of miracle.  
  
"So, I guess I'll never get a Corvette," he said, wide-eyed.  
  
"So, how DID that happen, anyway? I want all the details," Paul asked.  
  
"Yea," Doug, Peter, Jerry, and Mark said in unison as Jerry grabbed chairs for everyone to sit on as they listened.  
  
Carter gave them every juicy detail, and before he knew it, he had an audience. Nurses, receptionists, every one that had been close had heard the story.  
  
"Uh," Carter said after he told his story, "Can I have a minute alone with Paul? I've been trying to talk to him all day."  
  
Everyone left with a moan, knowing that story time was over and it was time to go back to work.  
  
"So Paul, I wanted to tell you. I saw Laura a few months ago. I think it was the middle of March or something. Anyway, she was in a bad accident. Were you aware of this?"  
  
Paul looked at the ground and frowned at himself.  
  
"Paul I know what happened, and I know you would never hurt her."  
  
Paul began to tear. "I knew it, I knew someone would find out. It was just an accident, I didn't mean to hurt anyone, you're right. I don't want to go to jail or anything. I tried to pull her back up, but she jumped back and the way she jumped, I couldn't hold on to her. I mean, I tried to get her but this truck came, and I, I just, I went into a sort of shock or something. My heart sank and I, I couldn't move. I tried to move, but I couldn't! John, I feel so bad. I was so scared, I never even called her, I never got to say anything. I never even got to apologize!" He almost broke down until Carter spoke.  
  
"Well you can apologize tonight," Carter told him.  
  
"You mean, you mean, she's okay? I thought I killed her! I haven't been able to sleep since it happened. I never visited her because I thought she would get mad and I never called and she never called and I just didn't know what to do, but thank God she's okay!"  
  
"I was hoping we could all get lunch and set things straight, but it doesn't look like I'm going to make lunch since, well, you know. But I'm starving! How about you and me go to the cafeteria and talk it over, huh?"  
  
Paul could only nod with his mixed emotions.  
  
"It's okay," Carter reassured him. "She's fine. She understands how you felt about it. Now calm down, and let's go get some lunch."  
  
Paul got some air while Carter went to his locker and got his scrub shirt that was for just-in-case occasions. At the time, he never really knew what the case was going to be, but he put it there. Just in case. Afterwards, they went to the cafeteria and got the special of the day. Hoagies. Good for them, Carter thought, considering what was normally down there. Which is why he normally brought his schoolboy lunch. They then called Laura and set a time for dinner at the Eighth Street restaurant this time. After that, Paul got his Jeep for him. Then Carter went to work as though nothing had happened to him.  
  
At dinner, they had talked about the days in high school. At the boulder in the park, they watched the sun set once again like they had used to. Paul started what they had gone out for as soon as the sun was all the way down.  
  
"So," Paul started, "I didn't want to be too weird about this, but, uh, how are you, Laura?" he said almost formally as if they had only met via nametag.  
  
"You mean our little, uh, accident?" she said, sounding annoyed.  
  
He didn't know what to say.  
  
"I never meant to hurt you," he said at the same time that she admitted,  
  
"I know you never meant to hurt me."  
  
They all sat for a while in silence. Not event the crickets chirped. Then, out of no where, Laura and Paul turned to each other and hugged. The movement startled Carter.  
  
"I'm so sorry. Do you forgive me?" Paul pleaded.  
  
"Yes, but only if you forgive me for never even telling you I was okay," she promised.  
  
"Yea. I'd have to, I mean, this is all my fault. I could have killed you, Laura."  
  
"But you didn't," Laura and Carter said at the same time.  
  
There was a slight pause between the trio.  
  
"Well I'd love to stay and chat, ladies, but I have to be at work early," Paul said.  
  
"Okay. What do you do, anyway?" Carter asked. "What do both of you do?"  
  
"I'm a designer at this computer company. I get ragged on a lot, but it pays."  
  
They all laughed a little.  
  
"I was working double shift at this fancy restaurant a few blocks away, but I'm training to be a psychiatrist."  
  
Carter and Paul looked at each other.  
  
"I wanted to surprise you," she admitted.  
  
"Well you certainly did," Carter said. "I think you all know what I do."  
  
"Yea," Paul said. "Demolition derbies with a side of street fighting with Mafia-men."  
  
Carter had to laugh. "Yea," he said.  
  
"Well," Paul said with a yawn, "I should get going. I'll talk to you later. Hopefully not much." He stood up.  
  
"See ya," Carter and Laura said in unison.  
  
"Yea, see ya," he said back. He then turned around and left. Once they had heard his Tahoe rev, they looked at each other.  
  
"Man, I've missed him," Carter said.  
  
"Me, too," Laura added.  
  
It was then that they looked at each other. Their brown eyes were focused on each other. The whole park was silent again, as Carter involuntarily leaned toward Laura. He stopped himself, not quite knowing what he was doing. He had hoped he hadn't made a fool of himself, but Laura never noticed.  
  
"It's nice to see an old friend," she said. "I'm tired, too. We should probably go."  
  
"Yea. I think I'll stay a little while, though. But do you think you could come to my place? You know, tomorrow night," Carter suggested.  
  
"Alright. Are you going to call Paul?" she asked.  
  
"Uh, actually, I was hoping we could just, you know, watch some movies or something. You know, like we used to do. I know we did that with Paul, but that was after junior high, and I just want it to be you and me. Do you mind?"  
  
"Nope, not at all. In fact, I'll bring the popcorn and stuff," she agreed. "I'll see you, around eight okay?"  
  
"Sure," Carter said quietly.  
  
"Okay. Bye, Carter," she said as she walked down the rocky hill from the boulder.  
  
"Bye, Laura," he said after her.  
  
He heard her car start, and he lay back on the boulder and looked up at the stars. He hadn't noticed until now that he had loved her for all these years and that just once, and maybe only once if that was all he could have, was one romantic night with her. He just wanted to know how it would be if he did. He didn't care about the future, whether they would be just friends or not, but he had to tell her how he felt. He remained on the rock until he could no longer see what was around him. In fact, he had almost fallen asleep. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, lit a small Maglite that he had put there (just in case), and walked to his Jeep. He let out a sigh, and drove away. Only in a matter of hours would he finally get his chance. 


	5. The Defining Moment

A/N: I'm not sure where he was living in the third season, but let's just say for the sake of the story that he has a nicely fashioned two-floor apartment room. Okay, that's kind of like a condo, but remember: he's 'loaded'. Anyway, on with the chapter that sums it all.  
  
Carter went home and changed into his pajamas. They were the same ones. He flopped into bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling.. Or what he thought was the ceiling through the pitch dark. He thought about how he could tell her, how she would react. He thought like a novelist thinking of his next chapter. He couldn't stop thinking. Three times he had rolled over on his face to try and go to sleep, and three times he resumed staring at the ceiling. When he grew to tired to think any more, he dreamt. He would wake up and fall asleep. At about 4:30, he woke and looked at his clock.  
  
"Four? Four what?" he asked himself. He figured he needed some help from a friend in a place he called the medicine cabinet.  
  
He went to his mirror and pulled it open, revealing everything from Band- Aids to shaving cream. He pulled out a bottle and realized he didn't know what it was.. he had forgotten to turn on the light. When he flicked it on, he was blinded for a minute or two, then he read the back of the bottle.  
  
"For adults twelve, over, yada yada, do no exceed, aha! One every four to six hours.. But wouldn't you be sleeping? Oh well, good enough," he took out a little green tablet, put it in his mouth, and sipped some water straight from the faucet. His eyes popped open in reaction to the taste.  
  
"For better sleep? How?" he asked himself as he turned off the light. He still hadn't adjusted to the darkness when he fell into bed and almost immediately fell asleep. He had a late noon shift and only about seven hours to sleep.  
  
When Carter woke up, he was a little disoriented. Not from the gorgeous little sleeping tablet he had taken how long ago, but from where he was. He looked up and saw nothing. How had he fallen into bed again? He fought with the obstruction in front of him to find his hands filled with his blanket. He looked out to see his bedroom door and what? Oh, the foot of the bed. He had gotten into bed backwards. But now he was rested and he felt like he got enough sleep. How long ago did he take that thing? He looked at the clock. A twelve zero nine stared him in the face. When did he start?  
  
"Whoops," Carter said as he recollected the fact that he started at about 12:30.  
  
He got ready and rushed to work.  
  
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*  
  
It was over. His shift was finally over. Carter sped home while he contemplated some advice he got from Doug (it was either that or contemplate the crap that Anspaugh gave him) and ran to his room with a quickening pace.  
  
He checked the clock, beginning to think about what it would be like if he were obsessive compulsive about time. It was seven. Once again, he had an hour to spare. He changed into his black pajama pants and a gray tee shirt that looked to be too big for him. He set up the VCR with a movie, a classic one for them, and unfolded the flip out bed from the couch. He got some throw pillows and straightened up a bit, then checked his hair. Followed by the clock. Again. It was already eight. He was going to call Laura and tell her to bring comfortable clothes, but something else popped into his mind.  
  
"I think I'm becoming OC," he told himself.  
  
"Great, now I'm talking to myself," he continued.  
  
"Ahh! I'm still talking to myself!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"NOW I'M YELLING AT MYSELF!" He figured he better sit before another voice came into his head.  
  
"Hello?" This was a muffled one.  
  
"Where are you coming from?" he asked.  
  
"Carter? You in there?" came the other voice.  
  
"Whoops. Coming Laura!" He opened the door. She was way ahead of him. She had navy pajama pants and a white tank top.  
  
"You thought I would forget about the pajama thing, didn't you?"  
  
He nodded with embarrassment.  
  
"That's okay. At least you remembered. Anyway, what movie did you get?"  
  
He held up a rental video case. And smiled. He had gotten a copy of The Breakfast Club. {Which, by the way, if you've never seen it, it is a movie about the most stereotypical diverse high school kids ever imagined (The princess, the jock, the nerd, the badass, the quiet nutjob, etc.) all getting detention and being shoved in the library for the entire day, resulting in a certain breakthrough that I will not go into detail with so I don't ruin it for you. Rent it. It's great. But anyway..} She looked at him and laughed. 'Classic,' she thought.  
  
He put in the movie and they watched it, going through what turned out to be two bowls of popcorn once they had started a war at who could throw the most pieces and catch them in their mouth. Before they knew it, the credits were over but the popcorn war was not. Carter finally was fed up with the beating he had taken and threw a piece at Laura. She accompanied that with a comment.  
  
"You know who you remind me of in that movie?" she asked Carter.  
  
"Who, the good-lookin' badass?" he said, imitating a girly swooning tone, making her laugh.  
  
"No, the role that Anthony Michael Hall played."  
  
He frowned. "But he played the nerd!"  
  
She only laughed at her wonderful comment.  
  
"Oh yea?" he shot back, "Well you're like the prissy girl! Yea, the daddy's girl! Oh yea, take that!"  
  
She took those comments offensively, considering she was not prissy. Not one bit. "I take that back.. you remind me of the jock!"  
  
Carter may have played sports, but he did not like being called a jock. He never did. He picked up the pillow he had been laying on and threw it at her. She only threw it back. It wasn't long before they were laughing hysterically (on the floor), pegging each other with pillows and the occasional popcorn kernel. When they had finally stopped laughing and throwing things at each other, finally defining the name "throw" pillow, Carter helped her back onto the couch.  
  
"Sorry about that," Laura said, still laughing.  
  
Carter laughed back, then froze when he suddenly realized again why he was doing all this. They were now sitting with their backs on the back of the couch, smiling at each other.  
  
"Is something wrong?" She asked him.  
  
"Oh, no. Nothing," he told her.  
  
"You're lying. I can tell. You're pretty good, but I can still tell. What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing, really." He was telling the truth. Nothing was wrong. He was perfectly fine. There was a problem, he couldn't tell her something that needed to be said, but nothing was wrong. The moment couldn't be any more perfect.  
  
'Wait a minute,' he thought using his inner monologue. 'This moment is perfect, and I'm not seizing the moment! Okay, calm down. Take this one thing for granted.' He thought to himself, but for some reason he was paranoid that she could hear him. She couldn't. 'Go for it,' he reassured himself.  
  
"Carter?" she asked. She stopped trying to get his attention when he locked eyes with her.  
  
Neither of them had noticed until now that Carter had put an arm around Laura. They sat there, looking into each other's brown, true eyes, and stared. With no warning, Carter slowly moved closer to her. She hadn't noticed until now how, well, cute he was to her. She hadn't noticed he was moving either.  
  
And with that, and no thought whatsoever, they figured it out. The door had opened to them, and they finally realized that they had loved each other all these years. Carter suddenly stopped, and they looked into each other's eyes again and smiled. They sat quietly for a few minutes. They felt like something had happened, but all that really had was that they stared at each other, figuring each other out.  
  
And then it happened. It was the best moment that either of them had had together in a long time. He finally did it. He leaned forward and kissed her, and she gave into it. Carter backed away slowly, smiling, and she smiled back. They leaned back on the couch, Carter still with his arm around her, and she put her head on his shoulder. And there they stayed.  
  
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`* Well, I guess that's it. I hope you enjoyed it, but since this was my first fic (On Fanfiction, that is) I would like some feedback. 


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